


Ennemi

by Sarie_Fairy



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Consensual spanking, Episode: s07e15 En Ami, Established Sexual Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Sex, Smut, Spanking, post episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28875684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarie_Fairy/pseuds/Sarie_Fairy
Summary: Prompt from Anon on Tumblr, for Fucksgiving (a little late I know)"When Scully comes to Mulder’s apartment after running off with CSM, Mulder angrily tells her: “Your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.” Just then, the Gunmen knock. When nothing is found the Gunmen are ready to leave, and Scully too. Mulder grabs her wrist and tells her quietly: “You are staying. Go undress and wait in my bedroom.” He tells the gunmen goodbye.TW - this fic includes descriptions of spanking. Consent is implied, as this is an established sexual relationship between the characters, but it does get intense.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	Ennemi

**Author's Note:**

> This begins where the prompt left off…

Heels clipped on the floorboards as she walked back into the depths of his apartment. Glancing over her shoulder at the men on the threshold, none of them were paying her any mind. Pausing at the door to his bedroom, she looked again, the living room wall shielding her from their line of sight. Licking her lips, she turned the doorknob, entered and closed his bedroom door behind her, the soft click quieting the voices beyond. 

Streetlight and moonshine danced shades of leaves—warm and cool blues—over his unmade bed. A few paces in and she stood, eyes slipping closed, unhurriedly. Lifting her hand, she splayed her fingers over her diaphragm, and her chest rose and fell, rose and fell. Running her tongue along the inside of her top lip, shaking her head and sniffing sharply, she swiped at her cheeks. 

A beat and she shrugged her shoulders up and down; her long, tailored jacket skating off her arms, caught it in her hand. Eyes seeking, she draped it over a chair, already laden with rumpled men’s clothing. Stepping forward, she walked to his bed, sat, and pulled off one heel and then the other, plus nylon sockets—placing them inside each shoe and setting them in a neat pair at the foot of his bed. Leaning forward, elbows to her knees, she held her head in her hands, closed her eyes, and rubbed at her temples. 

Subdued voices continued past the closed door as she stood, cocking her head toward the indiscernible conversation. Crossing her arms, she took the hem of her turtleneck in her hands, pulling it up over her torso, and off her head as she straightened up, before adding it carefully over her jacket. Beginning to hasten, she unclasped her brassiere, slipped it down her arms and off, adding it to the rest. Looking down at her chest, she gently cupped herself in her palms, squeezing lightly. She lifted an arm and turned her head, breathed in and scrunched up her nose. 

Dragging on the floor without her stilettos to pump her up, her suit pants, that matched her jacket were next. Finally, briefs, not a set with the bra, though both pretty and feminine none the less—underwear worn to be seen.

Naked, she padded over to a darkened door leading her into his small bathroom. Without switching on the light, she felt around, hands sliding over the rim of the basin, landing on the faucets, she twisted them both slowly. Reaching out, she grabbed a hand-towel, pulled it into the sink. After running it under the water, she rubbed it along a bar of soap, then under one arm, and the other. Returning it to the sink, she rinsed it and swiped it between her legs. 

Dropping the towel in the hamper, she twisted off the taps and returned to his room, to the foot of his bed, where she stopped and faced the bedhead, arms clutched behind her. Eyes closed, she stood, legs apart; at ease. Still and silent and exposed, waiting in the dark.

...

“Thanks, fella’s,” he said, waving the men down the hall.

“Go easier on her, hey Mulder,” the smallest one stated, eyes imploring, before he too turned, following the other two toward the elevator.

“Yeah,” Mulder mumbled as he stepped back inside. 

He exhaled loudly, pushing the door closed with his back, looking deep into his apartment, focus sharpening. It was dim, the dark wood stealing the light, leaving only a warm amber glow haloing a lamp, and the fluorescent gleam from his fish tank.

Sharply jerking his head, ear to his left shoulder, his neck cracked. He repeated the same on the other side as he made for his bedroom. Turning the handle, he pushed through the door into the shadowy room. His gaze settled upon her; pale skin lit blue, all luminous and aglow in the moonlight. 

She did not move as his footfall, heavy on the rug, continued across to her. 

Slowly, he circled her, as if in appraisal. A finger placed on the tip of her shoulder, and she quailed. He traced an invisible line, clavicles, to shoulder, to scapulars and back to the beginning; inciting goosebumps over her flesh. He focused on her face once more; her eyes remained shut tight.

Positioning himself directly in front of her, he looked her up and down, a possessive mien about him. Her breath began to quicken as he ran that fingertip to her breast, before grasping her, thumb flicking over her pebbling nipple. Leaning down to match her height, he growled in her ear, “you’ve been a bad girl, Scully.”

Breath hitching, she sucked her plump, cherry red lower lip between her teeth, chest heaving into his hand. 

His slid his palm up, flat over the plane of her décolletage, inching closing to her neck, thumb and fingers splaying over her collarbones, domineeringly. 

“I said, you’ve been a bad girl,” he growled.

The sound of her swallowing was followed by her opening her eyes, and she craned her neck to find him—the blue of her crystalline irises overwhelmed by the onyx pools of her pupils. Staring out vulnerability, she nodded, almost indiscernibly. 

“That’s right,” his voice hummed, the 'V' of his thumb and forefinger clawing closer to her throat.

“On the bed,” he demanded, letting her go and stepping aside, shucking off his jacket and tossing it over her neatly piled clothes. 

Knee hitting the bed, she began to crawl, slinking cat-like into an all-fours position. Spine curved seductively, she turned to look at him over her shoulder, the smallest curl teasing at the corners of her mouth. Continuing to watch him, she slipped her knees further apart, pushing her arse in the air. 

He groaned, and his head tipped back, momentarily. “Jesus,” he hissed. 

Brow furrowed, he stepped up behind her. “Further back on the bed. Until your feet hang off,” he instructed. 

She obeyed.

He stood still, eyes scanning her bare back, looping the circle of her tattoo. Jaw rippling, he opened his mouth as if to speak, only to suck in a breath. He turned and paced. Heeled off his shoes and kicked them out of his way, glancing back at her. She remained; knees and hands to the bed, holding steading, chin up, looking away from him.

Flicking off his sweater, he discarded it to the floor and then stepped up behind her again. 

“Count,” he told her.

Biting her lip, she nodded and then his palm met her flesh; slapped onto her backside with a clap.

“One.”

He blinked, nostrils flaring as he ran his fingertips over where his hand had been, glancing at the back of her head. She did not wince. She did not turn.

Then his hand wandered over her taut skin, fingers slipping between her cheeks, rubbing up and down. Scully’s back arched and flexed, moaning in response. 

He licked at his fingers and chuckled, “so wet.”

And then he slapped her again. Over the same place and she gasped, “two.”

And immediately again.

“Three.”

Again. Harder.

“Four,” her voice began to strangle.

Mulder undid his belt in a frenzy, pants sliding to the floor and he stepped out of them, kicking them aside. Hand into the waistband of his underwear, he retrieved his cock, held his erection and, biting his lip started pumping his stiff dick in his fist. A step closer, and he teased himself up and down her seam, eliciting a gasp from her, followed by a satisfied hum.

Letting himself go, he grabbed the flank of her hip in one hand and spanked her again with the other.

“Five,” she said and bit her quivering lip.

His eyes skirted over her naked form once more; bent and spread open before him, hands tracking his gaze—a licentious grin painted over his face.

“Mmm, Jesus Scully, you’re so fucking hot,” punctuating the room as he pushed himself into her—quick and steady until his hips bumped up against her. 

Remaining deep, he spanked her again. 

“Six,” she choked, body flinching and moving and quavering.

“Mmm,” he groaned, volume increasing as he began a slow pump out of, and then into her, hands gripping her waist. 

Scully’s mouth opened, eyes rolling back. “Ahh,” she sounded, jaw loose, as he pushed into her with more vigour.

With a sharp shock, his palm hit her cheek again, and he held it there, fingers squeezing as she panted. 

With each blow to her flesh, he shoved inside of her. With each slap, the indents her teeth were wearing into her bottom lip became a little more indelible. With each count of a number out loud, her face grew a little wetter.

The spanks became less measured, and harder, in tandem with each thrust. 

“Why did you do something so stupid?” slap.

Scully whimpered. 

“Twelve,” he directed.

“Twelve,” she repeated, voice disappearing.

“For not telling me,” he growled.

“Thirteen,” she squeaked and he immediately struck again.

“—for not telling me,” he repeated. “For being so fucking reckless—”

“Stop,” she whimpered, on a collision of palm and hot angry flesh.

Panting behind her, sweat on his brow reflected the light in the room into beads of twinkling sapphire, as he possessively he held her onto him, white circles growing on her skin under his fingertips; blood receding.

“Ishmael” she croaked, through tearful heaves. 

He jumped with a start. Pulled out of her and stumbled back as if she were ablaze. Frozen in place, he stared, eyes wide as she crawled up the bed, away from him.

Eyes darting rapidly over her retreating body, horror seized his countenance, supplanting his haughty, assertive, expression, as her cries filled the room.

“Scully, oh my God, Scully. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said all at once, snapping out of his role of commander. 

She fell forward, foetal on the bed, curling in on herself. He too fell, surrounded her, wrapped himself over her, torso blanketing her back, arms embracing. He kissed her hair, fiercely patted her, pacifying her, cooing: “Scully, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, Mulder,” she murmured. “He tricked me. I’m sorry,” her words a cacophony with her desperate sobs. 

“Honey, it’s okay. Shit,” he said desperately, changing places. Climbing over, he lay on his side in front of her, mirroring her position and stroking her hair, kissing her damp cheeks.

Eyes wet, unfocused, cheeks blotchy, she trembled. “Don’t be angry. Please. I’m sorry.”

“God, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that in here. Honey. Look at me.”

Heaving pants echoed around the room, stealing the silence. His brows knitted together as her whimpers petered out. 

She buried her face in his shirt, gripping at the fabric desperately. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, baby. Look at me,” he implored again.

“Please don’t be mad at me. He tricked me,” she choked.

A tear spilled from his eye and he wiped at his face, then took hers in his palm, forcing her to face him. 

“Baby,” he said urgently. “I was scared. I was terrified, and I’m… Fuck! I’m so sorry. I thought you were gone. I, I … I _was_ angry. I was,” he admitted, moisture flowing freely now. “Fuck Scully, I love you, and I thought you weren’t keeping yourself safe. Nothing can happen to you. Nothing. Nothing,” he quavered.

Her breath still heavy she looked at him as he fussed about her, moisture blurring his lash line.

Closing her eyes under his touch, she inhaled deeply. “I’m fine, Mulder. I’m fine.” Shifting back, she held him, cradled his head against her bare chest, beginning to rock him gently.

“I’m not,” he faltered, voice strangled. 

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. Running her fingers through his hair, she said louder, “I’m sorry. I — God, what did I do?” she doubted, looking to his ceiling, shaking her head. 

His wet cheek slid down her breast. Opening his mouth, he took a nipple between his lips. Adam’s apple moving as he suckled on her; nipped at her. Scully’s eyes flickered closed, breaths ballooning her chest up and down as she stroked his head, pulling him closer to her. 

Her attention returned to him as he let her go, choked, “I was so scared.”

“Hey,” she cooed. “I’m fine. I’m here. Shhh.”

Drawing back, her eyes fell onto his anguished face. Raking over his features, she pressed an empathetic pout to his forehead.

“Here,” she told him and moved onto her knees, pulled at the waistband of his boxers. Looking at her, he lifted his hips, aiding her mission to pull his underwear down and off. Once accomplished, her eyes trailed back up his body, palms smoothing along his legs. One knee and then the other, she pushed his thighs apart and settled there. Watching him as she bent and kissed the head of his cock before taking him into her mouth, soft and gentle and slow. In and out, her tongue caressing the underside of his firm shaft as she extricated him, lips embracing as she took him back inside. Up and down, in and out.

Mulder moaned, visibly relaxed into the bed, his knees falling apart. Lifting, she expelled him from her mouth before collecting the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up. He wriggled, shifted, and together they completed the task. Laid out, completely naked, his hard, heavy cock bobbed against his abdomen.

Placing her palms over his chest, she climbed onto him, mounted him and wrapped her palm around his erection, directing him inside of her. Sinking down until she sat, cheeks settling on the top of his thighs.

“Ahhh,” he huffed. “I thought you were gone. Scully, I can’t...” and then his words became indiscernible, and he stopped talking, started a gentle piston up into her. 

“Shhh. I’m sorry,” she said, rocking in time. 

Eyes squeezing shut, a tear expelled from the corner of his eye, disappearing into the hair at his temple. Watching him, a sympathetic furrow at her brow, she swiped it away with her thumb, and then leaned over his body and kissed the corner of his eye from whence it came. 

Staying there, she skimmed up his body, breasts brushing over the spattering of hair on his chest. Slipping off him, almost all the way, she then slid him back inside all the while slowly kissing him. Mouths opened, tongues entwined, their lips mingled, jaws agape. She swung her pelvis, continuing to pull him into her, and out. In and out.

He reached for her and gently held her face, embracing her jaw in his two hands; tongue pushing inside as his head lifted from the pillow. He moaned through the kiss; their mouths adjoined. 

Pulling back from her, head falling back, he watched, eyes blinking to the lazy pace she was setting

He swept her hair, that bounced down around her face, back behind one ear, then the other. “I love you, Dana,” he professed, eyes darting from one of hers to the other. 

Her bottom lip quivered, she swallowed it between her teeth as her brows knitting together.

Lifting her chest off him, she shifted, grabbed the headboard above him and her body began a new cadence. Swinging a quickening beat. Breasts bouncing about his face. 

“Oh God,” ejaculated from his lips, and he lifted his head, kissed and nuzzled her chest, as she swayed above him.

Gliding over him, her eyes were closed, Mulder’s wide, watching her. Atop him, she rocked and arched and undulated, her hips swinging, thighs flexing as she rose up and down, his shaft emerging and disappearing within, over and again. 

“Scully,” he panted, as he reached for her, his hands to her hips, joining her movements; pulling her back and forward to her rhythm. 

Opening her eyes, she looked down on him, her jaw slack as she wet her lips, tongue swiping seductively. Removing her hands from the bedhead, she sunk back, took one of his hands from her hip and drew it to her face. Swiping her tongue across the pad of his thumb, she then placed it between her legs. Immediately he commenced a strum, brushing over her clit, circling her there. 

“Mmm, yes,” she sounded, prayed the words up to the ceiling, chin high. 

He began to pulse up with his hips, bucking her—breasts bouncing to the beat—busy hand and fingers, continuing to rubbing and stroke her.

Reaching up, he cupped her breast with his free hand, rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger; plucked and pinched as she flicked her pelvis forwards and back. Frown lines deep in his forehead, bottom lip clamped, sucked under his overbite, a groan escaped.

As one they grew to a peak, a crescendo of movement and sounds and hands and bodies, flesh sliding and slapping together until she jerked wildly, back arching sharply. She caught herself, palms to the bed by his thighs as Mulder stiffened and groan, neck snapping his head onto the pillow as he held her hips, body shuddering.

Collapsing forward, she melted onto him, whole body astride his. Their skin glistened, forms outlined by the mottled light winding in amongst the shadows from beyond the window. Pebbles of sweat quivered and stirred with their gently vibrating bodies.

Rousing, she lifted, and he pawed at her, begging her to “stay.”

“Bathroom,” her reply. Rising, she disappeared behind the en suite door, Mulder watching her as she moved. Clicking the door behind her, Scully flicked on the light, blinked and squinted at her reflection. She swiped at the eye makeup, the dark smudges below her lash line, before abandoning the cause to sit on the toilet. She urinated, and wiped herself, sat for a moment, until and the sound of more liquid expelled into the bowl. She signed and shook her head, wiped again.

  
Returning to the bed, he wrapped her up, tucked his head beneath her chin and rested his lips over her collar bone. She pressed her cheek onto the top of his head and stroked his hair. 

“I love you,” he said again and kissed her skin, nuzzling in.

She wriggled down, shifting her position slightly and looked toward the window, the twig of a branch gently scratching its song onto the pane. 

“Me too,” she said, so quietly that it may have been to herself.

**Author's Note:**

> I read a writing tip about challenging yourself to write only what the action is, as an exercise. To not inhabit any characters POVs. This is to strengthen the "show don't tell" aspect of writing, so this is what I tried here. Thank you for reading.


End file.
